I Love Being Here With You

I Love Being Here With You - Part II

As you may have already imagined, I am as much of a devotee to certain renowned chefs and restaurateurs as my mother is to certain designers… And as any serious groupie would, food related excursions are researched thoroughly and planned well in advance, especially when travelling.

But when Mr. Urban asked me of our plans for New York on the eve of our trip, I told him that our only plans relate to keeping a 21 month old happy! Of course I had ideas at the back of my mind taunting me… things like Lupa, Bobby Flay, Saks, The Met, and colorful Martini’s at funky Manhattan lounges would pop in, but I graciously managed to ignore them, thanks to my mama-Zen mediation practice.

I dare say that the 6 hour flight over went beautifully. We didn’t get to watch Date Night, nor did the UrbanToddler sleep a wink (as we had secretly hoped for), but our girl was engaged and at a delightful volume level throughout the flight. We looked positively smug when neighboring passengers noted how good the baby was.

And then horror struck on the cab ride over from JFK, when I suddenly remembered that I had left behind my makeup bag and hair brush (probably because I was carrying a car seat, 2 piece stroller, diaper bag, and a slew of airplane activities and toys in place of my just-as-necessary-if not-more make up bag…).

An hour and fifty dollars worth of cheap drugstore makeup later, we were ready for Manhattan on a Friday night, with no plans (or more importantly, no reservations) what so ever… To our surprise the city was buzzing with people despite the heat. But leave it to my lovely Mr. Urban to go for a huddle with the concierge and return with a big smile and a table at Bar Americain.

Although the UrbanToddler and the couple seated next to us on their first date, had hoped for other plans for us, Mr. Urban and I still managed to enjoy some of Bobby Flay’s amazing “Foods of America”. However, that and a too pricy breakfast at Norma’s, where a glass of orange juice cost a crazy $9, and where we sat next to the man from Monk, were the extent of our adult dining experiences.

The Mouse and The Girl - A Love Story at FAO

From then on, our short 3 days in New York were spent walking the busy streets until way past bed times, enjoying the wonderful company of other tourists and New Yorkers and taking in the magnificent architecture. Paying a visit to FAO Schwarz, stopping by the Natural History Museum, taking every excuse to walk through the always lovely Central Park, doing a little bit of shopping in SOHO and on Fifth Avenue, and even sneaking a sleeping UrbanToddler into Knave Bar for ice cold Beers and Martini’s (for her parents that is).

I wonder what my parents do when I doze off...

We also enjoyed some excellent pizza at Lombardi’s (it's America's first pizzeria and a MUST), what Mr. Urban declared to be the best gelato outside of Italy at Grom’s, and an awesome take out Mediterranean meal at our friend’s place from Niko’s.

We bumped literally into Le Pain Quotidien as we walked out of Central Park one morning for a delicious European breakfast. And of course we had to walk through Zabar’s so I can look at all the different Breads and Cheeses, and watch those beautiful New Yorkers do their grocery shopping…

Most of all I loved sitting by busy fountains or cramming onto street benches holding our girl, taking in the humidity and the heat and her lovely scent. And taking cab rides, holding her on my lap while holding my sweetheart’s hand. I love New York. I love how every visit is different and thoroughly wonderful and exciting, even to a Toddler. And I love how this time, it transported me back to another busy city, to another time, with me on my mother’s lap in another cab.

FORTY THREE YEARS, SEVEN MONTHS AND FORTY DAYS

My life and the life of every Iranian I know, is bookended by the Iranian Revolution of 1979. It doesn't matter that I was barely old enough to remember this historic event or that I spent the decades that followed it, far far away from Iran, the Revolution of 1979 is a heavy, tacky, cruel bookend that defines who we used to be, who we are and the recurring nightmares and dreams we’ve had for 43 years. I can pinpoint with certainty the exact month after which a general feeling of displacement settled like sticky dust all over me, my family, my classroom, my teachers, our closest friends, our home, our city… In the years and decades that followed, I never experienced another event that brought such a magnitude of change to the nucleus of life. Not in Iran, and definitely not after a whole life lived outside of Iran. Perhaps only recently, the experience of the Trump years and the Covid-19 pandemic, the significant fear, change and frustration that both events brought to our col

On Donald Trump, Crunchy Bananas and our Children... A "How To" on keeping up Spirits and Sanity

The other morning at breakfast, my four year old looked, yet again somberly, at the breakfast before her. Despite having enthusiastically selected a hodgepodge of liberally salted hard boiled egg whites on the side of toasted hamburger buns, strawberries and vanilla yogurt and a cup of milk, she still could not bring herself to enjoy her breakfast. Her face was wrinkled, as was mine with exasperation from yet another failed attempt at assembling a palatable breakfast for my picky eater. This one, she is quite the philosopher. And before I could ask her why she wasn't eating, she said: "Two Things!" Holding up two tiny fingers. "The smells of these foods I picked, don't go with each other! And I wish Donald Trump would magically become Hillary Clinton, and the word (world) would be GREAT again". Despite our best efforts to protect our children from the anxiety of these times, they are alert and picking up on the mood (and the lingo) in the wor

Safa

I have always loved words. The way some people love shiny new objects. As soon as I heard a new word, a word that captured my imagination, my energy, my hundreds of unnamed inner thoughts and feelings, I would latch on to it with fearceness, joy and curiosity. I have also always been intrigued by how regular old words can be used in an unexpected context and evoke bursts of unexpected feelings in the listener, such as laughter, anticipation or tears. I would search for those words coming out of the mouths of everyone around me, and mentally catalog them like a dutiful librarian, and await the opportunity to say the words with my own mouth out loud to an audience, or better yet use it in an essay where the teacher could grade it, get a kick out of it, or read it to the whole class. As a child I always loved the Persian word Safa . For one thing the word sounds so simple, yet sophisticated and beautiful, and for another, each of my memories of hearing this word is stored in th

An Urban Girl

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